


Jane's Luggage

by mistyaiya



Category: AoJE, Jane Eyre - All Media Types, The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Genre: F/M, Gen, Journey, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyaiya/pseuds/mistyaiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although Jane’s living spaces tended towards clutter, she had packing down to an art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jane's Luggage

**Author's Note:**

> This posits a possible future AoJE event. Crossposted on tumblr.

Although Jane’s living spaces tended towards clutter, she had packing down to an art.  Her rooms were strewn with clothes, books and other papers, and teacups.  In more recent memory, items not own had added to the tendency towards chaos.  Colourful stripy cotton footwear, empty liquor glasses, laser-printed documents with blue logos on the expensive paper.  _The nice off-white birch textured paper._

Gathering her luggage always elicited a sigh however, like all clearing up, perhaps deeper.  She was always conscious of taking up space, attracting notice, and so she knew how to roll her clothes so they’d take up the minimum amount of room, and not crease.  She knew how to divide and layer her books evenly throughout her bags so their weight wouldn’t strain the seams, or her back.  _Especially the monstrous George R.R. Martin tomes._

Her expertise stemmed from moving around so often.  Her father’s job had required they be open to travel, her mother, with a tendency towards art hadn’t balked at seeing more of the world, or Canada at any rate.  Jane had moved four times with them before she was five, when she landed in, or crashed into, Mrs. Reed’s.  And in the last few years, she was in and out of several dorms.  But even for her packing five times in the past year had been a bit much.  _That doesn’t even include Banff._

Her travels had brought with them a fair bit of physical loss, as well as leaving sometimes-good company.  Though later recovered, her phone had been left on a bus; her handbag had been grabbed.  _Forfeited a home too._

She’d hoped her move a year ago would be more permanent, at least lasting a few years, not just eight months.  She felt free where she was now, but always with a nagging voice somewhere inside.  If home is where the heart is, where is home if your heart’s divided, torn, wrenched.  _If you’re bleeding inwardly._

Her little yellow and brown suitcase had been through a lot.  She liked to use it for display, and added storage, wherever she stayed.  She used to dream that one day it’d be covered in labels from different far off places, although she wasn’t sure people still did that nowadays.  The maps and airmail envelopes on the Rivers’ walls gave her hope though.  Hope.  Chance.  Pandora.  _I picked the right card._

She looked around her small rented room.  Cosy and plain.  She noticed a few paper hearts, high placed on the wall, that she’d neglected to take down.  She was going, that was definite.  Whether or not she’d come back was not.  And if she did, would she be alone?  Would they use this room?  _Simon would be gone._

She closed her case, picked it up, and headed for the door.  Whatever the outcome of this journey, she needed to know.  She needed to know if she was right.  Right for leaving, right for staying away, right for coming back?  It was bad now; she knew that.  And she knew her presence could only effect the situation in one of two ways.  It would make him fight, or it would make him wallow.  If it were the latter, she _would_ come back alone.  _Even if just a part of me._


End file.
